


Letters To My Father

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard convinces Jim to write letters to a father he never knew in an attempt to help sort his shit out. But how can a simple letter to a dead man you never knew help you sort through enough emotional baggage to fill an airport or three?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes Bones Gets Ideas And Sometimes Jim Wants To Punch Him For It

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea of Jim writing his dad letters while I was work. Inspired by the general feel of Mare Odomo's [Letters To An Absent Father](http://mareodomo.com/index.php?/comics/letters-to-an-absent-father/).
> 
> Also, un-beta'd or anything. I wrote this at 3am, so any mistakes are middle of the night mistakes.

March 22nd was not a day that Jim liked to remember. Growing up, his birthday was never celebrated. Winona could never bring herself to celebrate the birth of a kid who was the spitting image of her late husband. She felt cheated of her time with George. Whether or not she intended to, she took her anger and sorrow out on Jim. She fed him and she clothed him and that was about where her maternal duties stopped. The older he got, the longer the missions she’d take with Starfleet. This left him in the care of a vastly underwhelming step-father. Not a bad man, Greg, but not a family man by any stretch of the imagination. They mostly stayed out of each other’s way. 

Jim did give him props for keeping Uncle Frank away, though. No one needed a repeat of his one and only birthday party when he turned nine. Frank had showed up drunk and told Jim that he had murdered his brother by being born. After telling him he hoped he burned in the heart of a sun, he backhanded the kid. Knocked out a couple teeth, just to add insult to injury. Greg then brought out an impressive right hook and sent Frank on his way. 

Jim never bothered to celebrate his birthday again after that. He’d lock himself in his room and watch the occasional Remembrance Day event on tv though. Old enough to recognize the twisting in his chest as guilt, too young to comprehend that none of it was remotely his fault. It mostly boiled down to poor timing on the universe’s part. Driving his dad’s car over a cliff a few days later helped. That brief moment of _‘fuck this is how I die, smooth one Kirk’_ was rather cleansing. After all, nothing puts things in perspective quite like a near-death experience.

Things only got worse when he joined up, though. If there was one thing that Starfleet loved to do, it was remember an event like the Kelvin.

Jim expected a few whispers, maybe some turned heads as he made his way to class. He wasn’t nearly as prepared as he thought he was for the overwhelming pity in everyone’s eyes. He tried to keep one of his cocky smirks on his face all day, but not even a megawatt grin could stand up to that shit for long. The day ended with a few skipped classes and a very drunk Jim on the floor. The empties rattling around under the bed with him were good company though. They didn’t whisper behind his back.

Leonard sat him down a few days after that, looking him in the eye for a minute before speaking.

“I really think you need to address this, kid. And I know that, somewhere in that head o’ yours, you agree with me.” 

Jim had slouched even further down onto the couch, trying to escape the conversation without physically running away. 

“It’s okay, Bones. I’m good. I never knew him, I never met him. Given the circumstances, I turned out a lot better than I could have hoped for.” 

Leonard sighed and settled in next to Jim, knocking their knees together as they both focused on the wall in front of them. “Look, if anyone’s gonna understand fucked up daddy issues, it’s me. You never met your father and have spent your whole life in his shadow. I killed my father and have spent the last four years living with his ghost. Did you know that I write my Daddy a letter every week? I tell him everything I just can’t let go of. Sometimes it’s work related. Sometimes it’s personal. And it helps. I just hate t’see you hurtin’ so bad, Jimmy. If it were a sprained ankle, I could fix it. Can’t fix this for you.” 

Jim let his head fall back onto the couch behind him. Mentally started slicing the ceiling into geometric shapes as he took a few deep breaths. “You can’t fix all my problems, Bones. Even if you could, I wouldn’t want you to. There’s some shit I just gotta do for myself. This time of year has always reminded me that no one sees it as _‘yay Jim was born’_. It’s always _‘poor Jim’s dad died’_. I’m not saying that I need the spotlight on me, or that I resent what they do with the day. My dad may have saved a lot of lives, but he didn’t save them all. A lot of people died that day and it’s good to remember that. Good to remember them. It just makes me sad that it all happened in the first place.”

Leonard grabbed his bag, usually left abandoned after classed by the end of couch, and pulled something out. Handing it to Jim, he stood up and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re right. It is good to remember. Just give it some thought, huh? And if nothin’ else, I know you have a weird little fascination with actual physical paper.” He nodded and watched as Leonard went into the bathroom and started up the shower. Jim glared at the old fashioned notebook in front of him.

How could it possibly help him in any way, shape, or form to write letters to his dad? Bones had over 20 years with his father, it made sense for him. But Jim had no memory of the guy. He had never seen a photo of him that wasn’t an airbrushed Starfleet portrait. His dad was more of a vague idea existing in the back of his head. Just a random guy who contributed some DNA to the beautiful disaster that was Jim Kirk.

~ ~ ~ 

_Dear George Kirk,_

_Bones says it might help to write you letters. I think he’s full of shit like always. The man’s a doctor, and I know he did his psych rotation and stuff, but… Whatever. If it gets him to stop nagging me, I’ll play along. Not like it’s going to make much of a difference to you. 22 years is a long time to be dead. Maybe your ghost ass could come tell Bones that he’s barking up the wrong tree with this. He says I don’t handle things as well as I could and that I have a death wish he’d rather I give up than fulfil. Again, I think he’s full of shit. Whenever I say that though, he just scoffs and calls me an infant._

_A lot of people have called me a lot of names over the years, you know? Yet somehow, it never hurts when Bones does._

_-James T. Kirk_


	2. What These Affectionate People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-doubt is a real bitch.

Jim never really gave much thought to his promiscuity. Sex was just something fun that friends did together, like catching a movie or going out for lunch. It easily took him out of his own head for a little while, and if he got to make someone feel good in the meantime then why not? He never saw it as a bad thing until the whispers started following him.

_Wanna get laid, don’t bother looking for anyone. Jim’s right over there._

_I heard he takes a new person home every night!_

_He’s probably just an STD grab-bag at this point. Dip a toe in and see what you contract._

_Doesn’t he respect himself?_

_His dad died for nothing._

He brushed it off the first couple of times, but when people accused him of using sex as self-destructive behavior, he started to believe them. Dropping his gaze to the sidewalk as he hurried to class, his thoughts turned inward.

Was that something he should have been taught when he was younger? That sex was something special, sacred, and not to be given away so freely? To Jim, sex was little more than Tab A into Slot B, fiddle with Dial C until everyone’s happy and breathless. Emotions never played into it. Could something as harmless as sex really be a bad thing? Make him a bad person for being so open with his sexuality? It’s not like he discriminated against anyone. He’d taken home men, women, aliens, any willing being with a nice smile. He’d never forced anyone. He took ‘no’ for an answer the first time it was given. 

A familiar growled tone brought him out of his musing. “What’s it matter to you who he sleeps with?” Jim’s head snapped up as Leonard approached, scowl firmly in place. The latest guy to whisper about Jim squared his shoulders and sneered.

“Ahh, has the good doctor slept with our own dear Jim Kirk? Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe he’s given it to anyone and everyone but you? I think that’s the only reason you keep him around. 

Just waiting for him to fuck you so you can finally fit in with the rest of us.” The idiot smirked, but his eyes remained cold.

Jim was used to Leonard grumbling and complaining. Usually in good humor, or at least with very little heat. He had never seen the doctor this… dark before. Leonard stepped slowly into the guy’s space, face stretched by his grin. “Maybe it’s him keeping me around, hm? Knowing a doctor is all kindsa’ handy. I know lots of ways to hurt a guy. Can make it look like an accident, or even a pre-existing medical condition if I wanted. In fact, I think you look mighty familiar. Your name Brewer, by any chance? Yeah, I remember you now. I do believe I’m your primary physician. See you at your next check up, cadet.” 

Jim grabbed Leonard’s elbow and dragged him into the nearby mess hall. “What the hell was that, Bones? There’s gonna be hell to pay if he reports you!” 

“Relax, Jim. Everyone knows I grumble and squawk at anyone who’ll sit still long enough to listen. If he tries to report me, he’ll get told that I’m all bark and no bite. And you know that’s true. I’d never hurt anyone. Might think about it sometimes, though.” Leonard ran a hand through his hair, a few tufts sticking out in every direction. Jim pursed his lips, reached out to smooth the hair back into place while Leonard huffed and swatted at him. 

“What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? I thought doctors were supposed to all be pacifists who cry when someone gets a sliver.” Jim glanced up at Leonard, who laughed right in his face.

“Do you have any idea how outdated the Hippocratic Oath is, kid? For fuck’s sake, the thing starts out by addressing APOLLO. As in Greek God Apollo. Some doctors take an oath, others don’t. I, for one, subscribe to the oath of ‘Do no harm, but take no shit’. Granny thought it was hilarious, made me a needlepoint and everything. Now, since I came to the rescue of your virtue, you need to do something for me. You need to feed me. I’m gonna wait here in this nice uncomfortable plastic chair and you’re gonna go get me a chicken burger. Go on, before they’re all gone!” Leonard plopped down in a nearby chair and looked up expectantly. Jim nodded and laughed as he made his way over to the line.

~ ~ ~ 

_Dear George Kirk,_

_The plus side of having an old country doctor as your best friend? He knows all the best ways to be super terrifying when he’s defending your honor._

_The downside of having an old country doctor as your best friend? He knows all the best ways to be super terrifying when he’s defending your honor._

_I wish I knew people who knew you. People I could talk to about the kind of man you were. I wish you were around to tell me what I needed to hear growing up. I don’t know if I came out okay. I don’t know if I’m damaged or straight up broken beyond repair. It feels like I was stuck in a maze with different exits and no ever taught me how to read the signs. Did you sleep with many people before you married Mom? I’m fucking 22, how do I even find out if I’ve got it all backwards? Do I ask Bones? Just walk up to him and ask if it’s a bad thing that I sleep around? Do I ask a random person on the street what I’m supposed to feel? Maybe I’ll ask the shuttle driver if you’re supposed to grow out of sarcastic remarks. The grocery clerk might be able to tell me if I’m the only asshole on campus who can only achieve his goals by making them a competition with the world._

_When Pike talked to me about joining up, he told me I could be an officer in 4 years and have my own ship in 8. Getting on the shuttle the next morning, I said I’d do it in 3. I couldn’t just take that information and do it the way everyone else did. I had to be better, push myself harder, do it sooner. Bigger, better, flashier. I’m not good enough otherwise. Pike told me you were only a Captain for a few minutes, but saved 800 lives. He dared me to do better. Those were his exact words. Why am I not good enough? Why am I never fucking good enough, huh? Why can’t you stop being dead and answer some of these questions rattling around my head because the noise in my brain is driving me insane._

_I know I ran away by joining Starfleet. Sometimes I think my obsession with going to space is me trying to run away from bigger problems. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? All the broken shit is inside me. I can run far, and I can run fast, but I’ll never be able to outrun that._

_And that’s the problem, isn’t it?_

_-James T Kirk_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about Jim being confused and angry that he never had someone to guide him as he grew up. No one to tell him how he needed to conduct himself, good or bad. I know it seems like he's thinking his sexual activity is the bad thing, but that's not it. It's just one in a long line of shit that he's confused about.


End file.
